


Captain With Your Ship So Swift

by scapeartist



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 02:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5522579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scapeartist/pseuds/scapeartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A person from Killian’s past brings a little Christmas spirit and a whole lot of trouble with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain With Your Ship So Swift

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a little Christmas adventure as a thank you to everyone who has been so kind to me this year. I wish you all a very Merry Christmas! Any mistakes are my own. I was running out of time to post and I thought I would give my betas the day off. ;)

Wind howled outside the old Victorian house as sleet pelted the windows in a furious rush with each gale. Killian awoke when the house rumbled and shuddered, reminded of a particularly bad hurricane aboard _The Jolly Roger_ so many years ago. He hated the feeling of anxiety bad weather always caused sailors on a ship. Sometimes it didn’t matter how well prepared, someone still ended up overboard. It was always more of a matter of whose turn it was. He’d gotten through every single storm he faced, but it never seemed to lessen his apprehension.

Emma’s drowsy voice brought him back to the present. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, grateful to not be pitching about on the choppy seas.

“Don’t ‘member a storm in the forecast,” she mumbled.

“Because there wasn’t one,” he answered, placing a kiss to her shoulder before pulling the blankets up over it.

“Weird.”

“Aye.”

Earlier in the evening, Emma’s parents and brother had been over for dinner, but when they’d walked out onto the porch to bid them farewell, the sky was clear and starry. Hundreds of years at sea made him attuned to changes in weather, and this storm was just wrong. He never felt it coming.

Emma snuggled into him, her hair escaping from the loose bun at her neck and tickling his nose as she shifted to get closer to him and deeper under the covers at the same time. Killian waited for her to settle before resting his arm on her hip and settling in himself. Safe as he felt, he was awake now, the storm too loud to ignore.

Well, for some maybe. Emma snored lightly and Killian smiled into the crook of her neck at her ability to sleep through such noise.

A tree branch scraped and squealed across the window, making Killian grimace as gooseflesh rose on his arms and back of his neck. Along with splintering wood after the report of cannon fire, it was a sound he could live without. He’d see about trimming that tree away from the house tomorrow if it was still standing.

Killian was finally starting to drift off to the sound of Emma’s steady breathing, when he thought he heard a shout from far above the house drawing closer, followed by the heavy thud of something slamming into the roof then tumbling off.

Both he and Emma bolted out of bed, Emma wild-eyed and reaching for a gun that wasn’t there.

“Bloody hell!”  
  
“What the _fuck_ was that?!”

They looked at each other, Killian shaking his head with a shrug. He grabbed Emma’s robe from the bottom of the bed and tossed it to her, and pulled on his jeans and shirt that he’d left on the chair in their room earlier when they got ready for bed. He dressed quickly, and they made their way down the stairs just in time to hear someone banging weakly on the front door.

Killian’s longer stride got him there first, and he hesitated for a moment, hand over the doorknob. He glanced over at Emma. Her look of determination was something he loved to see on her face, but right now, he’d rather be in bed enjoying a far more rapturous expression. Killian nodded once to make sure she was ready, and she returned it, her magic sparking in both hands. He raised his hook at the ready and flung open the door.

Standing on the other side of the doorway was a face Killian hadn’t seen in at least a couple hundred years. The man, swaying on his feet, was bruised and had a scrape across his cheek and more across the knuckles ready to knock on the door again, but Killian would have recognized him anywhere.

“Kringle? What in bloody blazes are you doing here?”

“Captain?” the man questioned, surprise and confusion mirroring Killian’s own bewilderment. Before Killian could respond, Kringle’s eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed into Killian.

As Killian caught the man, he noticed the storm had ended and a gentle snow fell instead.

* * *

Killian hefted the unconscious man over his shoulder, and dumped him on the couch as Emma stood there, dumbfounded.

“ _Kringle_? _Kris_ Kringle?” she asked, her tone skeptical as ever when faced with another character who should have been fictional. Of course Santa would be real. Evil Queen, Snow White, Red Riding Hood, Wicked Witch. Captain Hook. Real. Why not Santa?

“Aye. How do you know him?” Killian sounded as baffled as she felt.

“Well… I don’t know him _personally_. But everyone in this world knows him. Kris Kringle is another name for Santa Claus.” Killian looked at her blankly. Maybe he was called something else where he grew up. Emma gestured to the chimney. “Brings presents to all the good boys and girls at Christmas?”

Killian shook his head, frowning. “No idea what you are talking about, love. Santa? Christmas?”

Emma contemplated the man laying on her couch. He had the white hair—damp and wild at the moment—and beard, but there was nothing particularly jolly-looking about him. He was on the thin side, wiry, and his outfit was most definitely not red velvet or fur-lined. This Kris Kringle was wearing a thick, grease-stained sweater—the cable-knit style fishermen wear in the winter months—and dark green trousers. His battered boots were far from shiny. No way this guy was Santa.

She shook her head trying to clear it. _What day was it?_ With the whole trip to Hell and back, she forgot to look at the calendar. It very well could be Christmas Eve. In fact, she was sure it was. How else could this craziness be happening?

“Swan? Are you going to enlighten me, love, or is this one of those times you’d rather let me swing in the wind for your amusement?”

“Sorry. No. It’s a holiday. In this realm. They don’t celebrate it here in Storybrooke though—never translated I guess—which was fine by me,” she shrugged.

Killian looked at her, waiting for more of an explanation. Emma continued with a huff. “Christmas. Religious in origin, but more commercial nowadays. ‘Santa’ comes down the chimney on Christmas Eve…which is probably today…and leaves presents for children. He’s a, uh, legend? Myth? I dunno. He’s not really _real_. At least, I didn’t think he was.”

Getting up from the couch, Killian crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at their most unexpected guest. “I assure you _he’s_ real,” he assured her, jabbing a thumb in Kringle’s direction. “One of the best thieves I ever had in my crew. We were on a raid for Pan… small coastal village rumored to have treasure hidden in it. I lost track of him during the, uh, plundering. I thought he was killed. Or ran off. He never turned up when we set sail again. We never found the treasure either. Pan was a bit peeved at that.”

“I can imagine the tantrum that followed.”

“It wasn’t pretty.”

“So how did this guy end up as Santa? Is it like the Dread Pirate Roberts schtick? Gets passed on every so often?”

“I don’t know any… Oh, you mean from that movie. I’ve no idea.”

Emma would be lying if she said she never wanted anything to do with Santa. Mostly she wanted to punch him in the face. She spent enough of her childhood getting bounced around, the holidays being the best time of year to do it, because who wanted to spend money on presenters for a kid who wasn’t theirs? To Emma, Christmas felt more like the time of year when random people pitied her openly instead of behind their hand. Gifts were given to her more to make the giver feel better than to brighten her existence, no matter how it was couched. Every year she wished Santa were real and that he would come and grant her wish for a family. Every year she was alone. She rather resented the bastard and his false hope, but she also wanted to believe in what he represented: love and generosity.

As if sensing her conflicting feelings on the topic of this particular holiday, Killian turned to Emma and hugged her. “You say this Santa Claus _leaves_ gifts for people?”

“Yeah,” she said. Feeling his warmth again and the solidness of him was a gift. _He_ was a big part of the family she had wished for, and Santa didn’t bring him. _She_ found him. More than once. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and relaxed into his embrace.

Killian sighed. “That does not sound anything like the man I knew. He could clear out a house of its valuables right under the watchful eyes of its owners without them being any the wiser. Never once did I see him give anything to anyone.”

A pained chuckle came from the couch drawing their attention. Santa—Kris Kringle—rubbed the back of his head and looked at Killian and Emma with bleary eyes.

“Pardon me for interruptin’ your moment, but that’s not entirely true, Cap’n, and you know it. Gave you a cut of my spoils if I do recall,” he reminded Killian, his voice rough, but amused.

Breaking apart but still standing close, Emma could feel Killian fidget with his rings. He looked wary.

“Aye, well, you were aboard _my_ ship. We had a code.”

Kringle smiled, obviously recalling his piracy days with fondness. “That we did. I haven’t stolen a thing in ages,” he said with a sigh.

Killian didn’t seem interested in a stroll down bad memory lane. “What are you doing here? And how the _hell_ are you still alive?” he asked.

“I might be askin’ the same of you, Cap’n.”

Killian put his arm around Emma’s shoulders and drew her close. “Spent too long in Neverland doing Pan’s bidding after you disappeared. I live here now. Your turn.”

Straightening his sweater and smoothing his mussed hair, Kris sat up, the picture of politeness and said, “If I’m gonna spin _that_ partic’lar tale, I’m gonna need a drink.”

Emma practically snorted. “Milk and cookies?” she asked.

“Gracious, no,” he said with a wince. “Got tired of those a century an’ a half ago. Any rum in this place?” he asked, glancing about.

“Does a pirate live here?” Emma asked, as she went toward the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of rum and glasses.

“Thanks, missus!” Kringle called after her, winking at Killian who rolled his eyes.

“Name’s Emma. Emma Swan. But you know that already, don’t you?” she tossed over her shoulder as she walked to the cabinet where they kept the rum.

Kringle thought about it for a moment, his snowy, white eyebrows drawing together. “You know, I _should_ know your name, which is lovely by the way, but I don’t. Were you born in this world?”

Emma paused, her hand hovering over the rum bottle. She tilted her head and glanced over at him, suspicious. “No. I wasn’t. I was born in the Enchanted Forest.”

With a satisfied nod, Kris smiled at her. “That’s why. I only know the names of children born in _this_ land.”

“Guess that explains the complete lack of presents as a kid,” she mumbled, and returned to the room, handing Santa…no… _Kris_ a tumbler before giving one to Killian, then filling them both.

“I _am_ sorry about that. No way a’ knowin’. My powers, such as they are, are limited,” Kris said, then took a large gulp of rum. He smacked his lips and raised his glass. “A pirate does, indeed, live in this house, and he has very good taste.”

Emma couldn’t help but forgive the poor guy, not that she was going to tell him that. She figured she would forego the jab to the nose. At least for the whole no presents thing.  

“Care to enlighten us as to how you landed on our doorstep?”  Killian prompted his former crewman.

Kris scratched at his beard. “Short answer is that my ride got spooked with the storm blowing up out of nowhere and dumped me.”

“Reindeer?” Emma asked, somewhere in the neighborhood of hopeful yet doubtful.

“Right you are, missus!” Kris said, wagging his finger at her as if she were the most clever person in the room. “They can be skittish in bad weather. And this was no ordinary storm.”

He took another sip from the glass and was about to speak again when Killian put his hand up to interrupt Kris. “Aye, I could have told you that. Now, I’ll take the long answer, if you please, _mate_.”

Kris held out his glass for another refill and Emma obliged. Killian clenched his jaw and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you remember that little excursion we took for Pan to that village?”

“Aye. You disappeared. We never found any treasure.”

“That’s because _I_ found the treasure. A beautiful cup, so lovely it glowed all on its own,” he said wistfully. “An’ it were presented by a lovely lass offering me a drink. I thought she were one of the locals tryin’ to distract me. I took the drink an’ the cup. Turns out she was fae—a dark one at that—and when I walked away with the treasure, I damned myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“She banished me here to this land, where I was to repent by giving away things to people instead of stealing from them. My sentence is almost over. If I don’t complete this year’s round in time, I get another century added to my sentence. The guy before me, Nick, got tricked into staying for far longer than any man should. Frankly I’m surprised he got away at all.”

“Tricked?” Emma asked.

Kris stood up and walked over to the window and peeked through the opening of the curtains. He tilted his head toward the outside and pointed toward the clear sky. “That storm was to slow me down. Make me late. Force me to continue givin’ away loot for another hun’red years. No thanks. It’s exhausting work.”

Emma turned to Killian and said under her breath, “I wonder if the fairies here had something to do with this?”

“Doesn’t seem to be their style, love.”

“Have you met Blue?”

“Yes, but there are different kinds of fairies out there. Some a bit more…vindictive than others. Honestly, I wonder if they are part dragon the way they hoard their treasures.”

Now that Kris was up and moving about, Emma could smell the damp wool of his sweater and stale tobacco. “Any idea how you ended up _here_? In Storybrooke?”

“I’m gonna guess the fae I crossed don’t know about this place and thought they were dumpin’ me in the midst o’ nowhere special. This little hamlet iddn’t on a map. I thought for sure I was gonna land in the ocean. Kinda wish I had,” he said, touching the scrape on his cheek gently.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a watch. “Shite! It’s gettin’ on in time. Don’t suppose you have any spare reindeer lurkin’ about?”

Killian and Emma looked at each other. Her smile was met with a long blink and a sigh.

“Will a ship do?”

A grin spread across the old pirate’s face. “It just might. Especially if it’s the ship I’m thinkin’ of. I do have _some_ magic. It’s very specific though. I can make things fly an’ go fast. I can get down a chimney no problem. I know where to find kids who believe in me once a year only. Other than that, nothin’ particularly useful on a day-ta-day basis, and certainly nothin’ to protect me from the likes of that fae demon.”

Emma waved her hand and she and Killian were dressed for a cold night outside.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered.”

* * *

They found Kris’s bag of gifts dangling from the old antenna on the roof of the house. Emma brought it down with a snap of her fingers and handed it over.

“Not very big. Or heavy,” she commented, testing its weight with a tug.

Kris chuckled. “It’s bigger on the inside. Only way I can carry that much stuff. Can’t weigh the reindeer down like that. It’s bad for ‘em.”

“Of course.”

Kris shouldered the bag and turned to Killian. “Say, Cap’n, things are likely to get crazy again the closer we get to my finishin’ the job. We might need help. Any of the lads still about to help crew?”

“Just Smee, I think.”

Kris shook his head in disbelief. “That rat-bastard’s still around?”

Killian chuckled. “You don’t know the half of it. I’ll give him a call and have him meet us at the ship.”

“Do. It’ll be _grand_ to see him again,” Kris said with a smile that showed a good number of his tobacco-stained teeth.

Emma grabbed Killian’s arm and shook it, distracting him from Kris’ reaction to the realization Smee was still alive, too. “We need to bring Henry! He knows the ship. He can help. I can protect you all.”

“I can’t imagine Regina will let him out this late,” he reminded her.

Emma shot him a smug smile. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” She pulled her phone out and texted Henry while Killian roused Smee from whatever hole he’d crawled into for the night.

Henry was waiting for them outside Regina’s house, having snuck out of his window and down the tree. When he got into Emma’s Bug, he sat next to Kris in the back seat and looked at him with barely restrained excitement.

“Santa?” he asked.

“Henry! You keep disappearing off my roster. Bit of a yo-yo, you! It’s good to meet you, lad! Call me ‘Kris’ though. That’s my real name.”

“Right,” Henry said. He paused for a second, and Killian recognized the “I’m-about-to-be-blunt” look he wore frequently these days. “You don’t look much like Santa.”

Kris waved his hand dismissively. “Propaganda. An’ this baby,” he said, fishing out a chain from under his old sweater. He held up the crystal charm dangling from it and grasped it tightly, closing his eyes, until it glowed. Next moment, he was a round-bellied, red-velvet with white-fur trim-wearing Santa, and not the grungy former pirate curled up in the back seat of a Bug. Quick as he changed, he changed back to his normal self again.

“Quite the trick,” Killian said.

“Not exactly a look that blends in though, is it? Tough to sneak away in that get up. Kinda humiliatin’ too. No respectable pirate would dress like that. An’ it varies depending on where in the world I am an’ what those children think I look like. Like I said, I’ve got magic, it’s just particular.”

“Where are your elves?” Henry asked.

Kris laughed heartily at that question. “You ever met elves, m’boy? Laziest bunch of forest dwellers you’ll ever have the displeasure of crossing.”

Killian looked over his shoulder and nodded in agreement. “They are not big on manual labor,” he said.

“Nope, this is a one-man operation, Henry. Why do you think it only happens once a year? Takes me the rest of the year to gather up what I need. Which, by the by, I have something special for you when we are done. Seems you an’ I have a missing year or two of gifts to make up.”

Henry was grinning from ear-to-ear when they reached the docks. Smee was shuffling nervously near the gangplank to the deck of _The Jolly Roger_ when they filed out of the car and made their way over.

“Smee,” Killian greeted his former first mate. “Perhaps you remember—”

“Kris…Kringle! How did you… what are you… Huh. I never expected to see you again!” Smee said, stumbling over his words.

Kris clapped Smee hard on the back, causing him to almost lose his balance. Smee smiled nervously.

“You wiley son of a cur, I bet you didn’t!” Kris said with a look in his eye Killian remembered all too well.

The two men, both gifted in acquiring treasure of various sorts, were more than a little competitive. Friends, they were not. They could work together under orders or if it served them both equally, but there was no love lost between the men. Killian often wondered if Smee had something to do with Kringle’s disappearance, but he didn’t have the time nor inclination to find out. They were both more trouble than they were worth most days, but they did make some trips more lucrative than others, so he put up with their rivalry. But only having to deal with one of them was easier on him, so he didn’t think much of it after Kringle had gone missing.

“Captain,” Smee said hesitantly, “you said you needed my help with the ship?”

“Aye, Kringle here lost his transportation and has a job to finish. I offered my ship and what little crew I could scrape together on short notice. I know how much you miss the adventures we used to have, so I called you.”

Smee cleared his throat and pulled his hat down over his ears, smiling weakly. “And I’m glad you did, sir. Thank you for thinking of me.”

“Right, then. Shall we?” Killian ushered everyone up on deck and then did a quick inspection for damage caused from the storm. There wasn’t much. A few rips in the sails, which Emma patched up with a quick spell, and ropes tossed about, which Henry and Smee put to rights again.

“So,” Emma began, looking both excited and nervous as she clutched an equally excited Henry’s hand in hers. “Obviously the ship is Rudolph, right? Killian can be Dasher—”

“You mean, ‘dashING,’ love.”

“No, DashER. Henry can be Cupid, I’ll be Vixen—”

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t tell anyone what I call you during our… private time,” Killian interrupted with a saucy grin.

Henry coughed. “Gross. Please stop.”

Emma continued, ignoring them both. “Smee, I suppose you can be… Blitzen?”

Kris laughed and shook his head. “The reindeer don’t really have names, missus. Not to say that I don’t call them a few choice words, but I won’t be contributing to the delinquency of a minor,” he chuckled as he poked Henry in the arm.

“My mom’s said worse,” Henry said brightly.

Kringle feigned shock while Killian and Emma nodded in agreement.

“Fine. No names. But how does this whole thing work? Last time we needed to get up in the air, we used a cannon ball and Pan’s shadow.”

“Well, missus, I’ve got somethin’ a bit less evil and traitorous to get us flyin’. Once I get us up in the air, time will slow down a pace below us. We’ll speed up when we need to move between cities an’ towns, an’ with any luck—an’ your magic—we will avoid any… interference and get my route finished.”

“Interference?” Smee asked, eyes shifting between Kris, Emma, and Killian.

“Aye, Smee, you didn’t think that storm earlier was natural, did you?”

“No, sir, I didn’t,” he admitted.

“Well, someone is trying to keep Kringle from completing the job he was tasked to do. We are going to make sure he makes it through safely.”

“Not afraid are you, Smee?” Kris challenged as he dropped his bag to the deck with a thud. It opened up, and Killian could see something glowing from inside it. It seemed Smee had noticed it as well, if the not-quite-disguised look of interest was any indication. He was going to have to watch those two.

Smee pushed back his bright red, knit hat on his head, and looked Kris square in the eyes. “Not at all. I’m happy to help an old friend.”

“Excellent! Time’s a wastin’. Let’s get to it.”

Kris reached into the bag until his arm disappeared to the shoulder, felt around for a moment, and pulled a small pouch from it. He untied the drawstrings and tapped out some dust into his hand.

“We don’t need much. A little goes a long way. Cap’n, you and the missus can take the helm and keep us steady. Henry, you go stand at the bow an’ keep a weather eye open. Smee, you cover the aft. I’ll guide us as best I can. Ready, all?”

A chorus of affirmatives rang out and Kris held his hand open and flat near his mouth. Turning in a circle, he blew the dust into the sails and over the ship in a glittering shower. Killian pulled out of the berth and into the harbor where he could get the space he needed to take _The Jolly Roger_ airborne again.

Killian could feel the ship lift from the water and into the sky and his heart filled. It never failed to make him think of his mission with Liam, disastrous as it was in the end, and the first time he flew. The feeling was heady, having that kind of freedom to fly above the world. He smiled down at a beaming Emma, and the two turned to check on Henry who was too busy being in awe to notice them watching. The last time he was aboard _The Jolly Roger_ in flight, he’d been stuck in Pandora’s box thanks to Pan and never really got to enjoy the whole experience of a flying ship.

The time dilation was odd to say the least, what with the ship stationary and Kringle zipping about in the towns below, but getting to see this world he now lived in made it worthwhile to Killian. Emma did her best to name the parts of the country they were in, and Killian let her know when they reached a place he’d like to revisit another, less compressed, time.

Emma pointed out all the places she’d lived before, some bringing a smile to her face, others barely an off-hand mention. He never stayed in one place for long either, throughout his life, and as much as he liked the prospect of settling down for a time, knowing there were plenty of places to visit (provided Storybrooke’s borders stayed open) was a comfort of sorts.

It wasn’t until they reached the Gulf of Mexico that another attempt to pull Kringle off course reared its nasty head. A monster, made of the oil being drilled off the coast, formed up and reached for the ship, anchored near the shore. Henry spotted it as it rose up out of the oil rig, and Emma encased it in water, constricting it until it exploded. She had to do that multiple times as the oil would coalesce and form up again and again, until Kris returned, finished with that area.

After that, things got far more dicey, and the tiny crew of _The Jolly Roger_ was on constant alert. There was an out-of-season November Witch waiting for them in the Great Lakes, where Killian out-sailed the wind like the legendary Captain he was. In Canada, an army of Abominable Snowmen tried to rush the ship, but Emma’s fireball practice with Regina paid off to great effect. The plains brought tornadoes even Zelena would have envied, and in the desert areas, sand storms blew up around them, but not before Emma put them all in a bubble to keep the sand outside of their airspace. When they finally reached the Pacific, they were greeted by a Kraken.

Killian had always wanted to take on a Kraken.

Emma was kind enough to let him finish the beast off (after having confounded it a bit with her magic) with a long spear hurled into its gaping maw, killing it instantly. He kissed Emma soundly  and wished for less of an audience. Some presents couldn’t be wrapped, as Killian was well aware of. If he didn’t celebrate the holiday before, he might just now.

During longer breaks between deliveries, when things were calm, Kris expressed his happiness that not everywhere in the world celebrated Christmas. He could barely make his rounds as it was. Henry, on the other hand, was beside himself, already retelling parts of their journey to Killian, who was more than happy to listen and add some embellishments to the tale of his own. Emma watched her boys and rested when she could, the magic taking its toll on her.  

Smee stayed out of the way for the most part. He’d been handy with the guns, and teaching Henry how to fire multiple loads at once, but he didn’t seem to be interested in socializing. At least not when Kris was around. He did manage to save the bag of presents before it slid overboard when they had to dodge a fiery blast from a volcano.

“How did you get this job, Kringle?” Smee asked, handing the bag over to him.

Kringle shrugged. “Luck,” was all he said. Killian noted he didn’t say what kind.

As Smee returned to his aft lookout, Killian thought he saw something glowing a little brighter inside Smee’s coat, but before he could investigate, a flock of birds swarmed the ship, and he became distracted trying to maneuver out of their way.

Finally, the last present was delivered—a little ahead of schedule. Kris was free of his sentence. The look of relief on the man’s face was something to behold. He was certain he had that same look when he escape the Underworld. There was nothing like it.

“Where will you go now?” Henry asked

“Some place warm. I’ve been stuck in the Northlands for far too long. I’m ready for a beach an’ sun every day. Maybe a little boat of my own. I don’t even care which realm,” he declared.

“Do we need to drop you off somewhere?” Killian asked.

“No, as soon as the last child opens their present, I’ll be sent wherever it is I imagine. All the trappin’s of this job will be gone with me. So, Cap’n, set a course for home, an’ I’ll be on my way shortly.”

He waved Henry over and reached into his bag. Kringle’s eyes opened a little wider for just a moment, and he smirked to himself. Then he pulled out a small package, the shape of a longish rectangle, wrapped in dark blue paper with gold stars all over it.

“This is for you, Henry. I believe you were in need of a replacement.” He winked at Henry and whispered, “Use it wisely. There are consequences to havin’ it, as you well know. Be a good lad.”

Henry unwrapped the gift to find a new pen inside the box. He looked up at his mother and Killian with surprise.

“I… I will! Of course. Thanks, Kris! This was the best night of my life. I’ll never forget it.”

“Certainly not now that you can write it down!” Kris said and gave Henry a pat on the back.

He walked over toward Smee with his hand out. “Smee, what say we just let bygones be bygones, eh? All that competition between us is water under a burnin’ bridge now, fair?”

Smee perked up. “Sure! Sure. Glad I could help you out. It was good to see you again.”

“That it was. And may you find a little luck like I have.”

Again, Killian noticed he didn’t specify what kind, but that was a feud he was staying the hell out of.

Finally, Kris turned to Killian as he rummaged around in his pants pocket.

“Cap’n, I believe you’ll find better use for this than I ever will,” he said, nodding Emma’s way as she stood with Henry who was showing her the pen he’d been given. He held out a beautiful black pearl ring in the palm of his hand.

“Not cursed, is it?” Killian asked with a raised brow.

“No, not cursed. I wouldn’t do that to you after all your help. She’s a fine woman. Deserves the best. And no one’s comin’ lookin’ for this beauty. I promise. Pirate’s honor.”

“Aye, mate, that’s what worries me. But I do appreciate the sentiment.” He pocketed the ring, and shook Kringle’s hand and said, “Hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

“Heh, well, I’ve learned that I won’t be takin’ drinks from pretty ladies an’ their pretty cups, that’s for sure.”

“Good enough. Be well, Kringle.”

“An’ you, Cap’n. Good to see you happy. It suits you.”

Kris hugged Emma, apologizing again for skipping over her all those years. He handed her a small vial of the dust he used to help _The Jolly Roger_ fly and told her to save it for a rainy day or three. Emma thanked him, and then, like magic, he was gone.  

They watched the sun rising incrementally the rest of the way home. Killian had seen many, many sunrises in his time, but never enough with Emma by his side. He could feel how tired she was after using her magic often and for so long. He practically held her up as she yawned and dozed off, wrapped in the circle of his arms. He slipped the ring on her finger and kissed her head.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

When they returned home, Smee had disappeared and was never heard from again. Killian had a pretty good idea where he ended up. The next time they celebrated Christmas, he was sure to leave out some cheese and a glass of rum.

**Author's Note:**

> There are some fairy tales out there where people who steal from the fae meet a rather awful end. I thought it would be funny if one of them ended up as Santa.


End file.
